Love, sacred love, how sweet thy will—
How perfect thy entrancing bliss—
What purer joy our hearts could thrill—
What rapture soothe our souls like this?

In a common cause of suffering or rejoicing, social distinction is frequently forgotten,—thus, over Stella\'s safe return friends, relatives and servants vied with one another in expressions of joy and gratitude, and even touched each other\'s hands in an outburst of heartfelt congratulation.

To Mrs. Sinclair, Stella related every detail of her most astonishing experience, and the tears she shed over Julia Webber\'s awful death were the proofs of genuine love and tender remembrance.

It is true that Julia Webber had insisted upon  her imprisonment for eight long months, but from what had she not saved her!

Of Maurice\'s whereabouts she knew as little as did Mrs. Sinclair, and after the first recital his name was never mentioned between them. To her faithful friend, Sir Frederic Atherton, Mrs. Sinclair repeated Stella\'s story, but between the two no mention of the matter was ever made.

In her perfect innocence, it never occurred to Stella that her imprisonment in Julia Webber\'s house was anything more than unfortunate and humiliating, and if any more disagreeable thought entered Sir Frederic\'s mind it was promptly banished as an unworthy suggestion of a worldly education.

During the weeks of convalescence through which Stella passed after the shock of that evening\'s disaster, Mrs. Sinclair scarcely left her side. The two were inseparable, and during the long winter evenings they would sit before the blazing, open fire, which was always to be found in Mrs. Sinclair\'s cosy sitting-room on chilly nights, Mrs. Sinclair in the comfortable rocker with Stella\'s golden head pillowed lovingly upon her knee, while the young girl sat in graceful comfort on the heavy hearth-rug, or a convenient ottoman.

The sorrowful days had left their traces on Mrs. Sinclair\'s raven locks, and in the shadows about her eyes, but an expression of supreme thankfulness shone on her face as her eyes rested lovingly on Stella\'s wavy hair. Only now and then when silence fell upon the air, the sweet mouth curved in lines of sadness, and her motherly eyes seemed trying to pierce the clouds of uncertainty and apprehension that closed around her at every unfamiliar step or voice.

It was as if she looked and listened for a nameless something while she dreaded its coming with a mighty dread. Even now, when a card was handed her by the servant, her hand shook perceptibly as she took it from the salver. A look reassured her, and smiling into Stella\'s upturned face, she said, "It is Sir Frederic, love, shall we have him right up here?"

"Certainly, mamma if you wish," was the simple response, but in some way the face that a moment before was demure and white as the lily, is now flushed and brimming with joy like the heart of an opening rose.

Rising, she had only time to seat herself decorously on the comfortable sofa when Sir Frederic entered.

"Ah, Sir Frederic, I am more than glad to see you this evening," said Mrs. Sinclair, as she gave him her hand in greeting.

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